Rocket the Up-Cycling Raccoon
by SnappleApple11
Summary: Rocket keeps himself busy by inventing things. The materials for these inventions have to come from somewhere though, much to his shipmate's frustration. "We're not exactly floating in units Gamora," Peter said. "Until our next job, we're broke. Rocket was just using what we have available on the Milano-" "Like how he used the life support system to build that bomb?"


A/N: No real spoilers for GotG2, since the spacesuits and baby Groot were in most of the trailers.

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"And you needed to use MY things for this because, why?" Gamora demanded.

"They was there," Rocket explained, not bothering to look at her while he worked. "Look, if you didn't want me using your guns for my new jet packs then you shouldn't've put them at my eye-level. Besides, you weren't using them and I wanted them more."

"What kind of ridiculous logic- Peter, are you going to say anything?"

Peter turned to the pair from the pilot's seat. He had the Milano on autopilot but he liked kicking his feet up sometimes and watching the stars from the deck. "We're not exactly floating in Units Gamora," Peter said. "Until our next job, we're broke. Rocket was just using what we have available on the Milano-"

"Like he used the life support system to build that bomb on Arcturus?"

Rocket jumped in to defend himself. "We needed something big to stop that ship from crashing into the dam. The Arcturans were fine with it. And they even got us a new life support system."

They'd taken it out of the Guardian's pay, so Peter hated to admit it, but, "He's got a point there…"

"Rocket tried to use part of your music system for his latest project," Gamora pointed out.

That had Peter jumping out of his chair. "Whoa! What the hell Rocket?"

Rocket didn't even bother pretending to look regretful. "What? I didn't end up using it. Earth-technology's way too simple for what I do. Don't know why you won't let me upgrade the thing already."

"Because it's special to me, ok?" Peter reminded him. "Forget it. You put the stuff back, right?"

"From your shitty sound system? Yeah, it's all there. Nuts and ancient bolts and all."

"Great. Awesome."

Gamora nudged, "And what about my stuff?"

"What? No, I still need that. I already melted it down anyway."

"Rocket!"

"C'mon! I need it! You'll thank me when I'm done. Look at this prototype. See? Huh? You like that?" Rocket picked up a large, thick disc that was almost as wide as he was and held it out to them. Peter could vaguely make out which parts were the welded-together pieces of Gamora's guns. "Watch this, you just throw it on your back like this, and then-" Rocket slapped the heavy disc onto his back with a thud. The metal disc expanded, encasing his torso and shoulders in a thick piece of body armor with a rocket on its back.

"Awesome," Peter whispered. Gamora was less impressed, arms crossed in irritation.

"And now for the demonstration." Rocket pressed a button on the front of the pack and the pack sputtered, burst to life, and shot him upward into a hover over Peter and Gamora's heads. Peter distantly worried that the flames from the pack were going to burn right through the floor of his ship – if they didn't burn through the sides of the pack itself first – But his fears vanished in a buzz of awe when Rocket leaned forward and went zooming toward the Milano's interior.

"Rocket! You still owe me new guns! You can't just jet-pack your way out of this!" Gamora yelled after him, but he was already gone.

"Then Gamora says, 'you can't just jet-pack your way out of this!' Except he totally could. And it was awesome." Peter finished telling their other shipmates what had just happened, expecting sympathetic ears and shared laughter, only to be met with a pair of blank faces.

"That is a terrible story," Drax said.

Baby Groot nodded. "I am Groot."

"No! It's not!" Rocket insisted, at the same time Peter sputtered, "How is that terrible?"

"A good story needs conflict and resolution. You admit that Rocket flew away before anything could be resolved," Drax explained, sagely and deadpan.

"Well that's bull crap. 'Cause I resoluted building these new packs!" Tiny paws shook the now-shrunken and slightly melted disc for emphasis.

"I am Groot."

Rocket bristled. "What do you mean it's not a word? Since when do you know what's a word and not a word?"

Groot didn't answer. His attention had already shifted to the dirt in his pot and the shapes he could build out of it.

"It is not a good story," Drax repeated.

"Whatever, you wouldn't know a good story any more then you'd know a metaphor."

Peter was pretty sure Gamora was still pissed at Rocket for using her guns as scrap metal. To be fair, it was a pretty dick move. That didn't stop the collapsible jet pack from being any less cool though. Even if, on their next job, Rocket and his jet pack kept over-shooting and missing the Tribbles they were supposed to be collecting, sending him slamming into cave walls.

Ok, so that was actually pretty funny.

Less – More – hilarious was when the casing of the jet pack started welding together, misshaping until it spilled fuel on Rocket's tail and the appendage caught fire.

Just a tiny fire though.

Seriously! Just a tiny fire! They put it out right away so only the end was scorched and even Gamora laughed a little.

Rocket spent the next few days with his tail wrapped, working on the prototype pack and trying to figure out what went wrong with it during the job. His muttering was driving Peter a little a nuts, even from across the room. The output was too much, he heard the raccoon say, but the casing was too heavy, or reactive, or something. He needed a different metal. Or a different power source.

Peter was about to step in and remind Rocket that his ship was NOT a scrap yard for scavengers, that Rocket lived inside it too and really shouldn't dismantle his house for spare parts. But Gamora chose that moment to waltz in and drop a bag onto the table.

"Rocket," Gamora called. She pushed the small duffel bag toward him. "Here. For the jet pack. I had to use a big favor to get even this much. No more burning your tail off, got it? And you're making those jet packs for all of us."

Rocket opened the bag, surprised at what he found inside. "Is this…?"

"Salvaged Chitauri armor. It's fused with a rare metal found in some meteorites around the galaxy. I think Peter's world calls it vibranium? It's lighter and stronger than the casing from my guns and shouldn't weld to whatever metal you're using for the combustion chamber."

"I can make the packs smaller," Rocket realized. "Pocket sized. And if they're that much lighter they could go farther and faster, too. I wouldn't need more fuel."

"And you can get me new guns," Gamora said pointedly.

Rocket waved vaguely at her. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. Don't need yours no more anyway. Hey, wait up a sec. I had extra metal before so I used it on this." He reached under the table and pulled up a thin metal cylinder, tossing it to Gamora. "Flick it outward really hard, like how you hit Quill when he's being stupid."

"Hey!" Peter protested.

Gamora flicked her wrist out. Instantly, sections of a blade unfolded from the cylinder and clicked into place, forming a long sword that looked sharp enough to cut air.

Rocket watched Gamora's obvious interest. "I figured swords are your thing. What d'you think?"

Gamora smirked, and twirled the blade in her hand several times, testing the weight of it. "Intriguing. Can you make more of these? Out of materials that aren't my guns?"

"Can you get me more of this vibranium stuff?"

"I'll need to call in a few more favors," Gamora said.

"Deal." Rocket held out a paw, and he and Gamora shook on it.

Drax watched the pair from across the room, and turned to Peter. "That," He said, pointing to Rocket and Gamora, "Is a good story."

Peter snorted. "Whatever, man."

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Yes, I know Tribbles are a Star Trek thing, not a GotG or Marvel thing. But I just rewatched that episode and even though they multiply like rabbits and are basically just cooing lumps of fur, Tribbles are pretty fucking cute.


End file.
